Bree’s heart roared as she watched Taveon lower himself to his knees. The only moment of his life where he would ever have to kneel before anyone else. Lord Dagen stood over him and placed the crown atop his perfect head of black hair. Magic crackled through the courtyard, thick and electric. It buzzed with a new kind of life, a signal of a new age in the realm.
A fresh start.
A better start.
A world where innocents would no longer have to be killed.
For so long, Bree had doubted Taveon. For so long, she’d believed him to be a monster. But she had been so very wrong. Taveon was not the monster he’d wanted her to believe he was. He was brave, kind, and full of the kind of strength that was far greater than any physical demonstration of power.
Lord Dagen leaned over Taveon and slowly placed the crown atop his head. When it made contact, sparks exploded along every inch of her skin. Bree sucked in a deep breath, clutching her hands tight together as an intense dark magic swirled through her veins. It was the realm, gifting Taveon with a raw kind of power, one that would allow him to rule these fae. And she could feel every spark of it through their bond.
After a long moment, Taveon stood on shaky legs to face his new Court. Bree’s heart beat madly in her chest. He was now King.
The fae began to disperse after they roared and cheered, and after Dagen made the official announcement. The members of the Court would be eager to get to the Great Hall where a ball would rage all night long to celebrate the arrival of a new King and a new age of the realm.
But just as she turned to join them, Taveon caught her gaze, and he held up a hand. A request.
No, a demand.
He wanted to speak with her.
No doubt he felt her churning emotions. The unease. The fear. And the shame. Bree swallowed hard as she stood and waited for the rest of the fae to disperse. She supposed she would have to tell him about Fillan now, and he sensed that she needed to speak to him alone.
Taveon took a step toward the edge of the stage, and a strange expression flickered across his handsome face. He almost looked...confused. And then a sharp stab went through her gut. Taveon cried out, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and then he went crashing hard onto the stone ground.
Chapter 2
Taveon
A strange sensation poured through Taveon’s body. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, and it frightened him in a way that little else had during his very long life. It almost felt like…pure, unending pain. The kind of pain that would lead to death.
But that was impossible. Taveon could not be killed. He was immortal. Yes, he could experience pain, but never like this. What he experienced had always been what he imagined a muted version of true pain to be. A dull throb as opposed to the piercing roar that others felt.
Through his bond with Bree, Taveon received nothing but pure fear and panic. But it felt distant, as if viewed through a dark tunnel that had no end in sight. Whatever was happening to him was affecting the bond, a thought that scared him far more than the pain did.
He could not lose his bond to Bree. He’d rather cut off his own arm.
“Taveon,” he heard Bree say, though he could no longer tell if she was saying it out loud or in her mind.
“Address the King properly,” Conlan said with a snap.
So, out loud then. That was a good sign. At least he was still aware of the world, even if everything surrounding him was nothing but pure darkness.
Bree’s soft hand found his, and she squeezed tight as she sent comforting emotions through the bond. “Honestly, you’re worrying about how I address him when he’s practically comatose? You’re worse than he is.”
Inwardly, Taveon smiled. That was his champion, through and through. She had never let Taveon get away with anything, and he didn’t expect her to let his council members get away with anything either, no matter what his status now was.
“We need to get him inside the Keep and out of sight,” Rafe said quietly. “He is still breathing, but he is clearly in some kind of...strange state. The Court should not see him like this. It could cause…issues.”
Indeed, Taveon knew Rafe was right, and he couldn’t stop the worry from sprouting in his gut. The Court thrived on stability and the knowledge that the King’s strength would keep them safe. In Taveon’s current state, he could promise them no such thing. Enemies could and would take advantage of this.
If they found out.
He sent those thoughts to Bree, and for the first time since the Battle for the Crown, there were barely any barriers between them. She’d let them fall, for once, a fact that brought him more comfort than he wanted to admit.
“Don’t worry. We’ll fix you,” Taveon heard. This time, he was certain the words were sent through the bond instead of being spoken aloud. He could not see anything, but he could picture her face clearly in his mind. Her bright sparkling eyes, her cute little nose, and those shoulders of hers that she liked to throw back as a way to show the world that she was stronger than she looked. Bree was fierce. She didn’t necessarily look like it with her petite form, but as soon as anyone saw the full truth of her, it was impossible to think she was anything but one of the strongest fae alive.
Distantly, he could feel Bree watching his body being lifted from the ground and carried out of the courtyard. But he could not feel it himself. It was as if all of his sensations were muted, numbed, as if his body belonged somewhere that his mind currently did not. Sounds were beginning to die away. That little connection he’d had with the world began to fade until every voice was nothing more than distant whispers. If it were not for his bond with Bree, he knew he would have no idea what was happening to him.
“Please don’t be scared,” Bree said through their bond. “We don’t know what happened to you, but we’ll fix it.”
Taveon wanted to believe her, but as he searched his mind for memories of the past, he could not remember a single time when anything like this had ever happened. It must be some kind of curse. Some witchcraft that had been cast upon his body, a way to stop Prince Taveon from ascending to the throne. But whoever had done this had waited a moment too long. Because the Prince had become the king, even in his weakened state. They just had to keep the realm from finding out before they were able to fix this.
If they were able to fix this.
Taveon sent all of these thoughts into Bree’s mind and she stiffened against them. “No,” Bree said, her voice insistent. “Don’t lose hope. For every spell, there is a counter spell. This realm and Otherworld has always existed on the basis of balance. One thing cannot exist without the other, right?”
“In theory,” Taveon said, impressed by how much Bree had learned about his world during the short time that she’d been there. “But just because a counter spell exists, that does not mean that we would ever be able to find it. Whoever did this will be hiding or long gone by now.”
“Don’t be so sure about that,” Bree said, continuing to speak to Taveon through their bond. “One might wonder why someone would put a curse on the Prince during his coronation. One might wonder if that fae wants to become King himself. Or Queen herself. They’ll come out of the woodwork to try and claim the throne.”
“If this was done by a female, she would not have any reason to believe that she could ever become Queen. Females do not rule Underworld. They never have, and I doubt they ever will.”
Taveon could feel Bree bristle against his words. He knew she came from a world where females had becomes leaders, much more so than they had in Underworld, and he knew that Bree’s ferocity made her believe that she could be as strong as any male. And maybe she could be. But Underworld would never accept a female ruler, no matter what kind of curse one had put on the King.
Through their bond, Taveon could see through Bree’s eyes. Their group—Conlan, Branok, Dagen, Rafe, and Bree—had entered his chambers now. They carried Taveon’s limp body to his bed. Inwardly, Taveon groaned. It pained him that his
first day spent as King would be in his bed. This was not how a Dark Fae of Underworld successfully ruled his kingdom. He needed to demonstrate his power and his strength so that the entire realm would fall to their knees before him. Otherwise, he would lose his throne before he even sat on it.
Otherwise, another fae would rise up and try to take his place.
“Bree,” he whispered through their bond. “How many of my court members saw what happened to me?”
“Only a few. Most had gone to the Great Hall by that point,” she said back with a sad smile. “And the ones who did see what happened understand the severity of the situation and are loyal to you. Besides, Dagen has decided to go to the ball, act like nothing has happened, and say that you became busy with some urgent matter. We’ll only be able to keep that ruse up for so long, but it will buy us some time to find the counter spell.”
It warmed Taveon’s soul that Bree thought so many of the court members were loyal to him, but they were not. They were loyal to his father, and it had only been days since everyone had discovered that Taveon was not even Midas’s true-born son. It was naïve to believe that they would be loyal to him just because he’d won the Battle for the Crown. He had never had a chance to show the court his true strength and now he might not ever get that chance.
Bree reached out and took his hand. He swore he could feel her touch through their bond even though he could not feel anything else. She squeezed tight, whispering words of comfort into his ear. He wished he could close his eyes and breathe her in, and he yearned to wrap his arms around her waist, to pull her against his chest. His feelings for Bree had deepened these past weeks, but he had never had a chance to tell her exactly how he felt about. And now she might never know.
Of course, he knew that she had an inkling of it. As hard as he tried to keep his emotions from traveling down the bond and into her mind and soul, he knew that bits of those thoughts had to reach her. He knew that she could feel the way he felt, or at least a whisper of it.
“I care about you too, Taveon,” she said, sending comfort and hope down the bond.
Yes, Taveon thought to himself. He could feel the truth in her words. She did care about him, but in what way? She had never given him any indication that she felt the same way he did. Not just fond of him, but something so much more. A part of him yearned to ask her. A part of him wanted nothing more than for all her walls between them to go crumbling to the ground. But he couldn’t ask. Especially not now. Maybe if he made it out of this thing alive, he would wrap his arms around Bree and tell her everything he kept hidden inside the depths of his heart.
That thought alone was enough to make him want to fight his way back.
Chapter 3
Bree
Taveon’s current state could cause a hell of a lot of trouble in the Court. He’d told Bree as much, though he didn’t need to say a word through their bond for her to understand the truth of it. The crown always went to the strongest, fiercest male fae in the realm. That had been Taveon. But he certainly wasn’t that right now. If word spread…
And word would spread.
Frowning, she pushed open the door to her quarters and strode inside to change into her fighting leathers. It had been a long day, but she yearned to train. To punch something. To curl her hands into the sharp claws of her beast. Anything to work out the tension that clung tightly to her body.
But when her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, she had to bite back a scream. There, in the center of her bed, lay a raven. One with bright red blood pooling around its open beak.
Revulsion build up inside her, and she stumbled away from the bed.
“Hello, Bree Paine,” a familiar voice said as a shadow shifted out from the depths of her dark room.
Bree choked out a cry of alarm, though hardly any sound passed between her lips. She stumbled back, eyes widening. Fillan, the assassin, stood before her now. And he was just as she remembered. He still wore his crimson mask and matching jacket, and his glittering sword hung from his waist. Bree’s gaze locked on the golden hilt, the one that looked like a lion’s roaring mouth. Her heart beat out a frantic rhythm.
Before Fillan could say a word, she took two steps back toward the open door. But just as soon as she turned, she slammed face first into the middle of his massive chest. She let out an oomph and staggered back again, fisting her hands by her sides. How the hell had he managed this little trick?
“If you don’t let me go, I swear to the forest, I’ll scream so loud that the entire Court will hear,” she said through clenched teeth. Inside, she was trembling in fear, but she couldn’t very well let the assassin see that she was scared.
“You will not scream because it would be bad for your King if you did.”
She raised her eyebrows, her breath catching in her throat. She shouldn’t be surprised that Fillan knew about Taveon’s state. Still...it left her more than a tad uneasy. “Is that some kind of threat?”
“No.” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Just the truth. You need to keep up appearances while he is in his predicament. If the Court discovered that an infamous assassin is sneaking around the castle, in addition to the King being indisposed…”
“You did this. Didn’t you?” She wanted to punch the smug fae right in the nose. “You put Taveon in that trance, and you left a dead raven in my bed as some kind of demented warning.”
“Alas, I did not.” His gaze flicked to the raven on Bree’s bed, and he wrinkled his nose in distaste. “That is not my style.”
“You’re lying.” She narrowed her eyes. “Who else would have done something like this? You’re clearly after something, and you’ve been stalking the Prince for weeks.”
“The King,” he corrected. “And while I may have been ‘stalking’ as you so politely call it, I cannot take credit for whatever ailment has befallen Taveon. My methods are much more…to the point, shall we say. And I do not wish to see the King dead.”
“Well, if it wasn’t you, then who was it?” She glared at him, and then shoved a finger right into his rock hard chest. Bree fought back a wince from the pain that radiated through her hand. “And why the hell are you here?”
“I can only answer one of those questions.”
“You can’t answer both? Or you won’t?”
A strange smile flickered across the assassin’s lips. “I am here because you owe me a debt. And, as I told you in my note, I intend to collect.”
“Honestly.” She huffed out a breath. “You want to force me to pay you back for something I didn’t even ask for? Now, of all times? You say you don’t want Taveon dead, but you’re certainly not making things easier on him.”
“Now, especially,” he said quietly. “The realm currently sits on the edge of a very thin blade. One push either way, and it will fall. Which way would you prefer to see it go? Down into the very depths of hell itself or toward the light?”
“I…” Bree furrowed her eyebrows, frustration battling with curiosity. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re speaking in riddles.”
“I am speaking of Taveon’s current state, of the Tithe, of the war coming.”
Bree’s heart thumped. “What war?”
“The one that will no doubt descend upon your Court if Taveon does not recover.”
Bree’s face paled, and her heart roared in her ears. While Taveon had warned her what might happen if the Court discovered he was out of commission, he had not mentioned war. The mere thought of it chilled Bree down to her bones.
“It is not my Court, Fillan. Not really.” She loosed a breath. “But you’re right. Are you really telling me that you’re here to fix what happened to Taveon?”
A strange smile whispered across his lips. “Do you truly think I am capable of reversing whatever magic has put dear Taveon into this trance? I am afraid I may not be as powerful as you think.”
“So, it is magic?” she pressed. “It’s not some kind of poison?”
“It could be magic. It could
be poison. I cannot say.”
Frustration took hold. Fillan was starting to get on Bree’s damn nerves. “Honestly, why the hell are you here? Just tell me what you want and get it over with.”
Fillan stepped close, bringing with him the scent of burning embers. His chest brushed against hers, and she froze, her lungs filling with timid breaths. “I am surprised you are so eager to rid yourself of me. After our kiss, it seemed as though you quite liked my presence.”
Her whole body went taut as warmth began to spread through her neck and cheeks. “Don’t be ridiculous. That was merely for show.”
Except, even though it had been for show, Bree couldn’t deny that she had very much liked her kiss with Fillan. It had been hot and passionate and deliciously dangerous. Shaking her head, she tried to force her feet to step back, but she was rooted to the spot. She didn’t understand what was wrong with her. She and Rafe were very much an item, she felt a strange attraction toward Lord Dagen, Taveon was bonded to her mind, her heart, her soul, and now this. It was as if Norah’s choice to have a harem had dug its way into Bree’s head, and now Bree wanted the very same thing her best friend had.
But that was ridiculous. Norah was a Greater Fae and the ruler of the Light Fae realm. She was magically destined to have four mates. Bree wasn’t. Bree was just a human who had become a fae through the Starlight cure. Most fae didn’t have multiple mates. In fact, Norah was the first in decades.
Fillan’s lips quirked as he gazed down at Bree, their chests still brushing in an intoxicating way. “It is quite difficult for me to believe it was merely for show when my presence unnerves you so.”
A Heart of Midnight (Dark Fae Academy Book 2) Page 2
